


Bravado

by DracotheDeathEatingCupcake



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Coda, Everyone else is dead but like, Finale spoilers, Fix-It, Literally what all of us are writing am I right, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Finale, Seriously what even is time do any of us know, Tales from Heaven, What happens after the end, cas is alive, in a not bad way, wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracotheDeathEatingCupcake/pseuds/DracotheDeathEatingCupcake
Summary: Time passes differently in Heaven. Decades and millennia can pass in the blink of an eye, while a single second can drag on for eternity. Centuries pass after Dean dies and while he tries his best to be happy, he can't help but feel like something is missing. It isn't until Castiel finally shows up that he realizes what that mysterious something is.“'No! Screw that, Cas, and screw you, too! What the hell did you expect from me, man? What the hell did you expect?! You fucking... you told me that for years, you’d been lying to me. Keeping secrets from me. And then, then you told me that the only way out was for you to die, t-to fucking... and then y-you- you told me- told me that you lo- fuck I can’t. I can’t. And then, then you were fuckinggone, and I wasn’t, and what the fuck was I supposed to do, huh?! Tell me! What the FUCK was I supposed to do?! TELL ME!'”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!!!!!!! If you're reading this I am dead!!! (Metaphorically, not literally, don't worry.) 
> 
> AHHHH. So. SO! I will start by saying I did like the ending, which I know is a contentious opinion, but I mean... I liked it. I get why people didn't, but I honestly did. And this fic of mine is kind of the reason. It lets us write our own coda and afterword to the story, which is what I did here. I know hundreds, if not thousands of fics have been written between yesterday and today, and I'm just adding my own addition, since I needed this, kay? This was pure catharsis, written in a mad haze of heartache after the finale ruined me. 
> 
> I have no idea if this is good or not, I just know that I like it and it's the story I needed to read. It's overwrought, and dramatic as all hell, and has a lot of "chick-flick" moments, but damn it, I need this, okay?? Cas and Dean deserve to have their own emotional talk like Sam and Dean had. I decree it. 
> 
> UPDATE: So! I changed the title of this story. It originally was Smile, after the song of the same name by Mikky Ekko, but after thinking about it, I decided to go with my original name for it, [_Bravado,_ which is a song by Rush](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wonn3me3FEA). I still like the song Smile, and feel that it fits the story, so give it a listen if you can, but I feel that Bravado makes more sense. Plus it, technically, is a classic rock song. Well, more like Prog. rock, but Rush is one of my all time favorite bands, and Sam and Dean have used names of Rush members as aliases before (Neil Peart and Geddy Lee), so I'm going with it. :-) 
> 
> Let me know what you think! :-D 
> 
> Enjoy!

_~~~And if the music stops_  
_There's only the sound of the rain._  
_All the hope and glory,_  
_All the sacrifice in vain._  
_And if love remains,_  
_Though everything is lost,_  
_We will pay the price,_  
_But we will not count the cost_

_We will pay the price,_  
_But we will not count the cost~~~_

* * *

As he drives through Heaven, nothing ahead of him but open road, Dean finally begins to feel the tension that had been coiled around him for over a decade- hell, over a _lifetime_ \- begin to slowly unravel. As he drives in his car, the only home he’d known for the majority of his life- and feels as she purrs under him, more alive than she’d been in a long time- he can feel the weight of the world finally begin to lift from shoulders that have carried that weight for far too long. 

As he drives, he doesn’t let any thoughts enter his head. He doesn’t allow any feelings into his heart. For once, rage and anger aren’t dominating through him. Neither is sorrow and pain. For once, he feels nothing but the simple joy of riding in his car, his Home, with nothing to worry about anymore. No pressing issues he has to worry about, no Big Bad looming over his head, no Monster of the Week lurking around the next corner. All he has to worry about now is the road and the feel of his Baby beneath him, nothing more. 

And he’s sure, once this drive is over, once he finally takes a minute to pause, the memories will return to the forefront of his mind. The memories of his pain and his loss and his fear. The memories of all he has lost and all he has failed. After all, if someone only ever felt happiness and joy, how could they ever truly appreciate it? So, he knows the feelings will return eventually, knows that nothing lasts forever, not truly. 

And yet, as he drives along this endless road, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad now. Now that he doesn’t have that weight holding him down, now that he doesn’t have to worry about the fate of his brother or the world anymore… maybe now he can look at his failures and his pain from a new light. For the first time, he almost feels weightless as he thinks on the road that he has ahead of him. 

However, the time for deep contemplation will come. Once he reaches the end of this road he’s driving on, once he gets to the place that he’s racing towards... then, and only then will he stop and try to compartmentalize a lifetime of pain and sorrow. But for now... 

For now, he drives. 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

While it doesn’t feel like it, he knows somehow instinctively that decades have passed before he finally stops Baby at the bridge. It is a nondescript bridge, but it feels familiar somehow. It holds a power to it, a special aura that resonates deep within him. And he knows without knowing that when he turns, he will see a face that is more familiar to him than his own, at this point. And he smiles, truly smiles, as the last piece of his Heaven slots into place. 

“Heya, Sammy.”

While Sam looks exactly the same as he remembers him, a middle aged man with slightly too long hair, he can see the years Sam has lived without him in Sam’s eyes, the decades of life that Dean will never touch, no matter how long they may have together in this Heaven of their own. And for the first time in decades, a hint of sorrow touches his heart as he thinks of the life he’ll never get to fully experience, the years he will only hear stories about, never live firsthand. But as he sees Sammy smile, the same smile the man has had since he was an infant... the sorrow melts away and contentment rushes back. After all. They have time. They have nothing but time, now. While he won’t be able to live them with his brother, those years gone and passed, he will be able to hear the tales. Now that he has his brother, he can finally be fully happy in this heaven they’ve been gifted. He’s sure of it. 

The silence stretches between them, no words needed as they stare off the bridge, seconds passing into years passing into eons as they allow themselves to finally exist together in a way they never seemed to be able to when they’d been alive. Dean can feel the years melting off Sam as they stand together, the same tension that had taken Dean decades to shake finally starting to wane in his baby brother. Maybe if they stand there for another thousand years, that tension will finally be gone for good. For both of them. 

“So,” Sam starts, millennia later (what is time, anyway?), “what memory is this? It feels familiar.”

It’s then that Dean realizes that Sam doesn’t know. And he smiles, knowing that he gets to be the one to share the news. 

“It isn’t. A memory, that is. This is, it’s... it’s real, Sammy. A heaven of our own. What a concept, huh?” 

He looks over at his brother, sees the furrow in his brow, the confused frown that makes him look so much like a puppy. And for a minute, he’s a teenager again, ruffling his little (back when he actually was little) brother’s hair, cracking a crude joke about some odd girl he’d spent the night with, Sam’s confused look quickly turning disgusted. It only lasts a second (or maybe a decade, who knows), but it feels good to remember it, for once. Not tinged with even a hint of sadness. It’s incredible. 

“I don’t understand, Dean. Isn’t... I mean, heaven... what do you mean?” 

Dean smiles lazily as he shrugs, the motion no longer as weighted as it once had been. 

“Jack rearranged it. Bobby told me. Real Bobby, not alternate Bobby. Before Jack flit off to worlds unknown, he rearranged heaven. So, no more boxes, no more constraints. Just... bliss. They’re all here, you know. Mom, dad. Rufus is here somewhere. And while I’ve not seen them yet, I’m sure the others are here, too. We can see them all again. We’ve got time.”

He can see the way Sam’s eyes widen at the news, a startled smile starting to bloom on his lips. The expression freezes after a moment, before returning to that confused frown once more. 

“Wait... what do you mean you’ve not seen them yet? Dean, it’s been over forty years. What have you been doing this whole time?” 

Sam looks so confused that he almost wants to laugh. He holds it in, though, and just shrugs again as he looks back at his Baby, her black paint shining in the fake sun. 

“Me? Well. I’ve been driving,” he boasts, finally unable to hold back the snickers at the unimpressed look Sam gives him. He smirks and looks back out at the water before him, shrugging another careless shrug. “I mean it. Time works differently here. While I know that time on Earth has passed, I didn’t really feel it, you know? It just... exists, or some crap. I don’t know, Sammy. All I know is, nothing hurts anymore. All that pain, and rage, and anger, it... it’s gone. Like magic. And yeah, I kind of miss it, like a phantom limb. But this... it’s so much better than I could have hoped for, Sammy. I mean...” 

Dean trails off as he looks out at Heaven, the vast space open before him filled with souls of the ones he loves most. It’s beautiful here, in a way that he could never hope to explain. So, he doesn’t even bother to try and just allows himself to exist in a way he never could while alive. He can feel Sam relax beside him, some mild confusion still there, but the tension rapidly fading and a soft smile rising on his now timeless face. 

“Wow, that’s... that’s incredible. I... God, I’ve missed you, Dean. All these years, wondering if you were alright, if I should have ignored your request... I... I’m so happy. For you, for everyone. I never forgot you, you know. I thought of you every day. A-and I... I...”

Dean smiles as he sees the tears fill his little brother’s eyes, and while he knows they’re tears of relief, he can’t help that age-old desire to take away Sammy’s pain. So, he turns towards his baby brother and pulls him into a hug, a proper one that they never shared often enough when they’d been alive. He can feel his brother shaking, but he doesn’t comment on it; he just lets his brother cry as he holds him and whispers soft words in his ear, like he’d not done since the man was a young child. Maybe not since he’d been a baby. 

“I know, Sammy. I know. But I’m here. And so are you. My heaven is finally complete and now we can finally see everyone again. Together. It’s over. We’re done. We can finally rest, Sammy. We can finally rest.”

The shaking intensifies and Dean doesn’t know how long they stand there pressed together, the brothers reunited at long last. For once, it doesn’t make him uncomfortable to show such affection. It seems his fear at showing emotions and affection had faded with his pain and rage. Finally. 

Eventually, the brothers pull away, Sam’s eyes shining while Dean beams, not turning away from the emotion he sees and feels. There’s no more running. Not now. Not ever again. 

“Wow. I just... wow. I don’t know what to say. I mean... I can’t believe Jack did all this. Just... wow,” Sam whispers, voice hushed and awed. Dean smiles brightly as he’s reminded of what Bobby had told him, shaking his head slightly. 

“Not just him, Sammy,” Dean remarks, a soft chuckle lacing his words, “Cas too. Bobby told me.”

Sam jolts at the words, before a bright smile alights his face, melting the invisible years away like snow. 

“Cas? Cas is alive? Wow, Dean, I... just. Wow. Have you seen him?”

He can feel Sam’s eyes on him, though he doesn’t turn to face him. He looks out at the vast expanse before him and contemplates. He’s not ashamed or anything, no. Just... he’s assessing. He’s never told Sam, after all, what Cas had told him before he’d died. Has never told him what the angel professed. That’s a secret that only he can hold. Even here. 

“Not yet. Only Bobby. But like I’ve said. We’ve got time. We’ll see him again. I know it.” 

As his words hang in the air, he looks back at his baby brother and watches as he nods his head slowly, his hair moving in a nonexistent breeze, the words sinking in as the eons pass. And, finally, Sam smiles. 

“Good.”

Dean laughs, then, a full body laugh he’d not experienced in such a long time he’s almost surprised he even remembers how. 

“Alright, bitch. Enough sap. Let’s get going, eh? We’ve got our unlives ahead of us, now. Where do you want to go first?” 

“Whatever, jerk. And I... I don’t know. Maybe... well. I’d like to see Bobby. Maybe we can start there?” 

Dean smiles slowly at the request, nodding as he looks back at Baby, her glory splendid. 

“You know what? Why not. Let’s pay the old bastard a visit.”

And as they drive back on the endless road, miles and miles of nothing ahead of them, with only a destination in heart, no words are exchanged. 

None are needed. 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

The reunions aren’t as painful as he might have once thought, back when he’d been alive. It makes sense, he feels. This is heaven, after all. But now that he’s finally done waiting, now that he can begin processing the life he’d left behind, he realizes he can still feel the full spectrum of human emotion. Anger and sorrow are still there, he knows they are. They’re just... not as important. Not as powerful as they’d once been, centuries ago, when he’d been alive. 

Still, seeing the ones he’d lost along the years, the ones he’d failed or gotten killed... it should be bittersweet, painful even. But all he feels as he watches the ones he loves gathered together, finally, after all these years... he can’t describe it, but it sure as hell ain’t bad. 

It had been so good to see Jo and Ellen again, after so long. Ellen had smirked at him and slapped him upside the head, while Jo had snarked at him, the little sister he’d never wanted back once more. Ash had made some jokes, while Pamela had flirted. Kevin had been a welcome face, and he’d claimed no hard feelings. Charlie... now that had been a tougher one, but any possible pain had melted away when the woman had opened her mouth and began gushing about the epic LARPing she’d been able to do in this new heaven. 

There are more, here, an endless parade of the people he’d loved and the people he’d lost. More names and faces than even a timeless being has time to name. And they’re all here. Together. Forever. 

It’s the family they’d never had, back on Earth. The family they should have had but had been cruelly taken from them. The sun never sets here in heaven, the need for sleep never comes, and Dean never has to worry that when he closes his eyes, he’ll never have this again. 

Sam gets to see his own group of people, too. It does get to him, when he watches Sam see Jess for the first time, his baby brother crying as he’s reunited with his once love. He knows that Sam married, had a son (named after him, which makes him beam with pride), but he also knows that his brother never quite got over the pain at losing his first major love, the catalyst for everything. Seeing them together, reunited after all this time... it’s good. 

He knows that time passes as they exist in this plane, can even feel it when he stops to think, but it doesn’t fill him with any sense of anxiety. Not at first. He has nowhere else to be, nothing else to do. He’s allowed to just exist and be. It’s almost overwhelming, at times, just how content he is. Like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though he logically knows it won’t. This is heaven. A heaven that Jack created for them all, a final blessing bestowed on humanity by a far kinder and merciful God than they’ve ever had before. This is real. It’s here to stay. 

Still, there’s always a niggling at the back of his mind that tells him to not get too comfy. To not get too used to it. That it’s not as perfect as it all seems and that the moment that he lets his guard down, it all will fall apart. He supposes a lifetime of pain and heartache can’t be erased just like that. He doubts, no matter how long he stays in this place, that the feeling will ever truly go away. 

Whenever this happens, whenever it all gets to be a bit too much, he heads out in Baby and goes for a drive. Just himself and the open road, Sam staying behind in the heaven of his own making. One thing he’s learned after all these eons is that he doesn’t have to be beside Sam every second of every day to know he’s here. To feel his presence. It’s a marvel. 

The drives help him clear his head, let him gain control of his own afterlife. And, for the most part, things are good. Time passes the same as it always does in this realm, like water flowing in a lazy river, seconds and millennia merging into one. It’s like a blur of family and friends and joy and contentment. More friends and family join them as the years go on, the last stragglers finally catching up with them in the end, in this timeless place where anything can exist. 

One day, an undetermined amount of time later, a young man arrives in their heaven and he watches as his baby brother cries as he holds his son, the nephew Dean never had the chance to meet in life. The nephew he’d never gotten to see grow up. 

He... it’s good, Dean thinks, grinning and slapping the man with the same name as him on the back heartily. He’d died of natural causes, survived by his own three children and wife, in a world that was normal as normal could be. He’d never became a hunter, though he’d known of the creatures that went bump in the dark, which had made Dean almost want to cry, back when his brother had informed him of that fact, heart so relieved at knowing the cycle had finally ended. The man’s arrival is met with silent joy from his brother, with his mom and dad gathering around the grandson they, too, never got to meet. 

Of course, all of their other friends have joined them during the years, Sam’s wife having arrived decades before, but this is one he has been waiting for, for a while. The last of his immediate family, the one he’d never met but knew as intimately as if he’d been there all along. After all, he’d heard every tale Sam had to offer. Another missing piece slots into place inside him, here, the family finally reunited. 

And it’s good. He can’t argue that it’s not good, it must be good being here, surrounded by the love and affection he’d been denying himself his entire life. Here, bathed in eternal sunlight, the darkness banished from setting foot in such a sacred realm. Here, where he never has to worry about losing his brother, losing his parents, losing himself. Here, where he can finally be free and at peace. It must be good here, he knows it. He _knows_ it. 

And yet...

And yet, no matter how much time passes (or doesn’t pass, he doesn’t even know anymore), no matter how content and full he knows he feels, he can’t quite shake that feeling, which grows steadily the more that the infinite expanse of time stretches before him. The almost anxious feeling that something isn’t quite right. The silently terrified feeling that this all cannot last. The achingly empty feeling that something is, well...

Missing. 

It’s a feeling that lingers within him as eternity drags on, waxing and waning in intensity and ferocity seemingly at random, but always ever present, under his skin, growing and growing each time it appears, vanishing for shorter and shorter periods of not-time. Like an itch he cannot scratch, a wound that he keeps on scraping the scab off of. Slowly but surely it grows and grows and grows. And, eventually, not even the drives can help him escape the sensation. The empty yearning for something he can’t even put to words. He knows his family and friends notice it, Charlie and Jo giving him soft, almost pitying looks when they think he’s not looking. Sam giving him those soft, baby brown puppy dog eyes, the look haunting him even in death. Even his dad notices, the once gruff and expressionless man shooting him concerned glances every so often, asking him if he’s alright. 

It’s funny, he thinks, staring into the endless water of the glossy lake before him, skipping stones as he’s taken to doing when he finds himself alone. It’s so very funny. There’s no one left to wait for now that Sam’s son has arrived. Their family is all caught up, the whole gang back together again, so there’s no one left to be missing so keenly, so entirely, so... desperately. 

(And, of course, he knows that’s a lie. He’d once thought he’d left lying to himself behind, back with his anger and hatred and pain, but it seems this empty feeling inside of him has brought that character trait back. Because now, he constantly finds himself lying not just to himself, but to his family, like he’s human again and his bitter rage is drowning him once more. He hates it, hates it so much it chokes him when the thoughts get too heavy and won’t leave him be, but he has no idea how to get rid of it.) 

(Because it’s not like he hasn’t tried, alright? He has. Day and night doesn’t exist here, but if it did, he thinks that not a day goes by without him sending a silent prayer up to a being he doesn’t even know is listen, both consciously and unconsciously. If there’s one downside to having so much time ahead of him, it’s that he has an infinite amount of time to contemplate the life he had lived and see the obvious things he had once pushed down, too afraid of losing something he could have had but could never bring himself to admit he wanted. Too insecure to even contemplate the idea of deserving it. Too self-hating to admit the truth of his feelings.) 

So, he lives with it. Or, well... doesn’t live with it, per se, as he has no life within him. Exists with it, he supposes. Keeps on moving, keeps on smiling and drinking shitty beer that tastes better than the finest whiskey, doing his best to keep up the pretense of happiness in a place where only happiness should exist. It figures that he’d be the only person to not be satisfied by having everything a human could possibly want right at their fingertips, eh? 

And it’s not bad. It isn’t, honest. He is happy, he is content. He has his friends, his family; Sam, his parents, Bobby, Charlie, Ben, Lisa, Jo, Ellen, countless others, hundreds of others, everyone he’s ever lost or gained or failed, all of them around him constantly and... 

And still, he yearns. 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

There’s nothing special about the moment in which it happens. Not really. It’s the same as every other moment here, in this endless paradise, an endless reward for a life of heartbreak and sorrow. The lack of day-night cycle still trips him up sometimes, even after all of these decades, the endless expanse seeming too endless at times. 

He’d decided to go out on a drive some time earlier and had stopped at the lake he’d grown attached to, skipping stones on the perfectly still water. It’s a peaceful lake, a place he likes to go to clear his head, though it’s been increasingly less and less helpful. 

It is there that he lies to himself like he always does, telling himself that he hadn’t fled because he’d seen Sam and his wife holding hands in a field of flowers, whispering soft words to one another, their love still strong even after death. He also pretends that he doesn’t notice how much harder it gets to contain the empty feeling when he sees the couples that he is constantly surrounded by look so in love with one another, so happy and at peace. It’s easier to pretend, after all. 

He begins talking to empty air again, to fill the silence that is deafening him, like he always does these days (not days, whatever). And if he addresses anyone in particular while talking, well, he ignores that too. He’s gotten good at ignoring the feelings that shouldn’t exist in the perfect heaven. 

“Man, it’s nice to get away sometimes, you know what I mean? Being surrounded by loved ones sure is nice and all, but sometimes quality time alone is what I truly need to be happy. Just me, myself, and I, standing before an endless lake, skipping stones like a pro. Yep. This is the unlife, here,” Dean remarks, whistling a jaunty tune as he tries to push down the ache that threatens to consume him. He grabs another stone and lines up to skip it along the glassy lake. 

It’s when his hand twitches at the last second, causing his stone to sink in the water with a silent splash, a spasm caused by the pain within his chest squeezing tight and refusing to let go, that he lets the facade drop. It’s only for a moment, one second (if seconds exist anymore), a breath of time that he doesn’t need or experience anymore. But it’s enough to make him gasp for unneeded breath, squeezing his eyes tight as a flash of vivid blue dances in his mind, liquid and shining as a smiling mouth says words that he’d not had any time to process or respond to before it was too late. Bright blue eyes that haunt him endlessly, ceaselessly, the one thing missing from paradise that spoils the whole set. 

And despite himself, despite the promises he’d long ago made to stop bothering a being that stopped caring eons ago, that moved on when he failed to respond— his promise to stop picking at a wound that should have long ago healed but is now badly infected and oozing... the promise to move on and enjoy the afterlife he’d been given... despite it all, he finds himself sending up another prayer, this one more desperate and yearning than the last. Which is really saying something. 

“Dammit, Cas. Where the hell are you, man? It’s been... fuck, I don’t even know how long, and yet... dammit. Are you even alive? Bobby says you are, swears it, but if you are... sometimes I wish you weren’t, you know. That you were still... and I hate myself for it. I do. But at least if you’re not alive, then there’s a reason you’re not coming. Why you’ve- you’ve not come back. I always thought you would, one day. But even without being able to tell time, I know it’s been far too long. Sam’s great granddaughter arrived the other day, you know that? She was an old woman when she died. It... fuck, how many years have passed? It shouldn’t matter, the others don’t care for time, I know they don’t, so why... why can’t I... is this my punishment? F-for not... fuck...” 

Dean finds that he can’t finish his rambling words, his head fuzzy as he slams his eyes shut, running desperate fingers through his hair, pulling the short strands tightly. Pain doesn’t exist here, in this place, but he swears that he can feel the phantom of old twinges as he roughly grabs the hair as tight as he can. He’d do anything to feel pain right about now. How fucked up is that? Here he is, in a land of eternal happiness, and he can’t even be happy. 

“I… I miss you, man. Please… please, Cas. If you’re listening… if you ever cared for me at all… just… come back. Please, Cas. I can’t keep going like this, it’s agony. Even if it’s just to tell me to fuck off, I need something from you, man. Don’t I deserve that much? After everything? Cas. Castiel. Just… dammit. I’m turning into a teenage girl, Christ.”

Later, he knows that he’ll put the mask he’d learned to perfect in life back up, pretend with everything in him that he is happy, but right now he knows he can’t pretend. Not now. Not after everything that has happened, and all that he still yearns for, however long later. He can’t pretend, not in this moment.

He’s not happy. Not really. Not at all, sometimes. The novelty of peace and tranquility had run out ages ago and all he has left is an endless future ahead of him, and an aching hole inside of him. Being with Sam and the others does bring him some semblance of joy, but this gaping hole... it just keeps getting bigger and bigger and he wonders what will happen the day it consumes him entirely. What happens to a soul that is rejected so fiercely by the heaven it resides in? It’s funny that the one person he could ask that question to, the only being who could give him an answer, is the exact one causing the feeling in the first place. Isn’t the world so funny? 

Still, despite this moment of weakness, there’s nothing exactly new about the moment itself. It’s not even the first time he’s spoken to Castiel, the fallen angel he’d lost before he’d ever really had him. Nor is it even the most passionate or desperate he’s been, as he can distinctly remember screaming to the endless sun what must have been decades ago, begging Cas to come and end this, cursing a love that he doesn’t even know if he feels or not. He thinks that he should know what he feels by now, after all this endless time, but everything is so jumbled up inside him that he can barely tell up from down anymore. Sometimes, he wonders if this was the other shoe that has dropped. If this anticipation is the thorn in the lion’s paw, the hidden punishment in the eternal reward. He wishes Bobby had never told him about Cas. He thanks the stars that Bobby had told him about Cas. 

It’s as he sinks down to his knees, breathing heaving, unnecessary breaths that he can’t quite shake the need to take, that he feels something change. Something shift. Something... well. Something. 

He doesn’t notice it immediately, as focused he is on not breaking down like an infant, but after a moment (he assumes), he begins to feel it. It... he doesn’t know how to describe it, at first, a frown alighting his face as he slowly looks up and stares across the glassy lake, the hairs along his back standing up for the first time since he’d died. He didn’t even know they could still do that anymore. The lake is as still as ever, an endless mirror, and he frowns as he contemplates the change he feels in the usually stagnant air. 

It... it’s familiar. He knows that much. He’s felt this before, many times before, a lifetime ago. It’s on the tip of his tongue, he knows it, can almost taste it. But what does it feel like? Not bad. Not wrong. Just... different. He’s not experienced it before, not in heaven. But when he was alive... 

He feels himself take another useless breath, his nonexistent heart beginning to race as connections begin to get made in his mind, fast as lightning, something an awful lot like _hope_ building unbidden in his chest. Hope. Huh. That is an emotion he’s almost forgotten, as it is rarely used here, where he can have whatever he wants whenever he wants it. He finds that he doesn’t want it, actually, remembering why he’d left hope behind with his mortal body. After all, it’s hope that leads to the biggest devastation of all. 

Yet... yet he can’t quite crush it down. The feeling, the sensation, the charged energy in the air that is as familiar to him as breathing his useless breaths. It’s been an era since he’d last felt this sensation, and yet as it washes over him, the pressure intensifying with the time that doesn’t pass, he finds it’s like no time has passed at all. It’s not a foreign sensation in the slightest. In fact, it’s one he knows all too well, one that he once craved when it wasn’t there, though he’d never have dared admit that when he was alive, coward that he was. 

Still, even as his mouth opens and his throat and vocal cords move, lips forming a word that is so deeply ingrained in his soul that he could never hope to forget it, doubt flashes through him. He’s flying too high right now and he’s terrified of the fall. But he can’t help it, and before he can stop it, the word is out, hanging in the charged, pregnant air, floating like a butterfly on the breeze. 

“Cas?” 

The silence deafens him, the only sound he can hear the phantom heartbeat he shouldn’t have but does because it comforts him, and anything he wants he can have here. 

And then he hears it. 

And his universe shatters. 

“Hello Dean. It’s... it’s been a while.” 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

He has no idea how long he stares out at the glassy lake before he gathers the strength to stand up and turn around, but it feels like generations have come and gone before he is able to stand on shaky knees and manage to turn around. His phantom heart is racing, and his false breath is shuddering as he tries to crush the hope that is beginning to flow through him with reckless abandon. 

In the end, it’s almost anticlimactic to turn around and see a face that is so familiar to him that it doesn’t feel like infinity has passed since he saw that face last. The eons between then and now melt away and suddenly, he’s human again, staring across the space that has always been too much and too little at the exact same time. He can almost pretend he can feel the chill autumn air cause a shiver to run down his spine, even though the cold doesn’t exist in this timeless place. 

Castiel doesn’t look any different from what he remembers, and yet he can instantly tell something has changed. It doesn’t hit him at first what exactly that is. His eyes rove over the timeless face he could never manage to forget, the pale pink lips that haunt his memories, the oceanic eyes that drown him every moment of every day. He takes so much time just staring at a face he’d long lost hope of ever seeing again that by the time he finally realizes what is different, he thinks decades have passed. Or maybe only seconds. Or maybe even lifetimes, like the lifetimes that have always passed whenever he stares into eyes so blue that he feels like he’s drowning. 

But there is a difference, and it hits him as he sees the fond sorrow in those endless eyes, the shine he sees in them more unnatural than usual. 

“Woah, C-Cas. You, uh... you’re glowing.” 

And he is, as strange as it sounds. He has a subtle glow, a shine that surrounds him and envelopes him in every way. It takes the age-old familiar features that are engrained in his heart and elevates them to the max. He also notices a flash of something behind Cas and he can only stare at the giant wings he sees, no longer broken and battered as he knows they once had been. Not that he’s ever seen them before, not really, but he knows that his wings burning had hurt Cas in ways the angel could never fully put into words but that Dean could see during the quiet moments they would often share. Now, the wings are shining and bright behind the familiar trench coat, a dark iridescent black with galaxies hiding within them. It takes his needless breath away and his nonexistent heart stutters in his make-believe chest, and for that moment he’s human again, seeing this monumental angel for the first time, his heart racing with both fear and awe. 

He can’t help but stare at the crooked tilt of the palest lips, his insides squirming in ways he’d always denied when he’d actually had breath to be taken away. 

“Yes. I, uh... suppose I am. Well, you’re in heaven now, so I guess you can better perceive my true self. I, uh. Thought that coming to you in this form would be easier, though. Familiar. I’ve not used Jimmy’s visage in... a long time. But it’s good to see you, Dean. I...” Cas trails off and clears his throat then, before looking awkwardly off to the side, breaking their endless staring contest. He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or not. 

Silence blooms between them again as they stand along the lakeside, the air still and perfect like always. Dean misses the breeze. He’d never truly appreciated it while he’d had it. Funny, how life works. Or, well. Unlife. 

Eventually Dean clears his throat, blinking as he realizes he’s been staring for far longer than he likely should be. He looks away at last, though it’s a lot harder than it has any right to be. But that’s nothing new, now, is it? 

“You, uh. You’ve been gone a while. Time works strangely here, but... yeah. A while. Where... where you been?”

There are many words that are jumbling in his head, feelings and thoughts that he’s been building for years upon years. Accusations, declarations, rants, and arguments, all of them pressing and urgent and he has no idea where to start. Part of him, the part that feels the most like he did in life, wants to scream. To throw a fit and throw a punch and rage better than he’s ever raged before. Another part of him wants to rush forward and grab Cas and never let him go. Another part completely wants to run away from this moment and never have to acknowledge the swirling emotions inside him.

In the end, all the conflicting desires cancel out inside him and he finds himself stammering out words that he doesn’t quite mean to say. Cas doesn’t call him out on it, at least. He’s too busy looking ashamed to really notice the awkward fumbling. He doesn’t know when he turned back to look at Cas. Maybe he never actually looked away. 

“Yes. It... yes. It’s been... a while. I’ve... well. I’ve been busy. Jack- well, you know Jack rearranged heaven before he left, but before that he, well... I mean...” 

Dean can’t help the smile that rises to his face as he hears Cas let out an exasperated sigh, the angel’s eyes closing and his head shaking lightly with what he knows to be frustration. There’s nothing really funny about the moment, but it’s just so surreal, being here after all this time, that he can’t help it. It’s actually hilarious when he thinks about it. The glare Cas gives him at the chuckle he lets out makes him laugh harder. His cheeks would surely be aching if he could still feel them. 

“Perhaps I should start at the beginning,” Cas continues, his words only slightly clipped with the annoyance the angel never could fully hide. Dean wants to press the matter, to rile the angel up like he always had loved to do in life, but he suppresses the sensation and looks around the lakeshore, spotting a picnic table he was positive hadn’t been there a moment earlier. He doesn’t question it, used to Heaven’s tricks by now, and just nods his head over to the newly minted table. 

“Yeah, that uh, that might be best. Come on, Cas. Let’s settle in. Something tells me this is gonna be one hell of a tale.” 

His insides squirm at the soft smile Cas gives at the words, and he can see a smidge of the tension and anxiety that the angel had been carrying so tightly loosening its hold a little. Not much, as Dean can still see the tight tilt to his shoulders, but it’s enough to make the coil of emotion inside him loosen a little, too, making it easier to breathe. Metaphorically, of course. 

With a casual twist of his hips, Dean saunters over to the table, keeping his gaze carefully ahead of him, even as his body longs to turn towards Cas and never turn away again. Best to not make a total fool of himself. Not yet at least. He feels more than hears Cas follow behind him, the ever-present energy that Cas gives off making his spine shiver not quite unpleasantly. 

The table that manifested is a plain wooden one, with no bells and whistles attached. It’s the same kind of table he’s seen at countless parks and community centers (though a hell of a lot cleaner), and while it’s such a simple thing, it makes him feel almost nostalgic. He takes a seat and tries to calm the roiling emotion inside of him as he sees Cas take a seat across from him out of his periphery. 

Psyching himself up, Dean manages to look up at Cas with his trademarked cocksure grin, the look feeling only the tiniest bit strained, as he spreads out along his side of the table. He pushes down the wave of emotion that passes through him at the tiny smirk Cas gives at his display and instead nods, giving his dearest friend a significant look. 

“Alright, Castiel. Tell me. What the hell have you been up to all this time, huh? You don’t call. You don’t write. Makes a girl feel neglected. So, tell your story, eh?” 

He hadn’t exactly meant to say those words, but as he does, he finds he can’t quite regret them. Despite the casual words, even he can hear the bite they hold, the bitterness and truth that he can’t hide as well as he might have liked. He knows that Cas hears it, too, in the shifty way the angel looks away, his wings fluttering anxiously, an obvious tell that Dean can’t help but delight in noticing. Man. If only Cas had had those wings all along. The angel would never have been able to hide anything from him. 

Ignoring the pang that thought gives him, he puts all his attention on his dearest and closest friend, the angel nodding slowly. 

“Yes, I... I suppose you deserve the truth. Where to begin...” Cas mutters, a soft frown on his face as he looks out across the still lake, the endless sunshine radiating off his skin. Man. He truly is glowing, isn’t he? He’s distracted from his thoughts when Cas sighs again, giving himself a private little nod. Guess he’s come to some sort of conclusion, then. 

“Alright. I guess I’ll start where you left off. After the Empty took me, I was placed back into that endless sleep. No confrontation, no final words. Just... nothing but my memories, my regrets, and fears, played on endless repeat. It, uh... really sucked,” Cas explains, the corners of his mouth tilting up despite the serious words. Part of Dean wants to smile too, but his face feels frozen in time, so he just continues to stare as the angel continues his tale. 

“I figured that was it, you know. And I didn’t regret it. I still don’t. You... well. I didn’t regret it. And if that was it, if that was my end... I was content. Happy, even. Saving you... that was what mattered to me. If I died, well. At least I died with purpose.”

The words strike something within Dean, and he can’t help but see that moment in his mind’s eye, see the bright blue eyes drowning him with their sorrow and joy and ~~love~~. He pushes it down, though. Cas is talking again, and he doesn’t have time to get lost. Not now. 

“But yeah. That was it. I was... finished. Done. Forever. Or, well. So I thought. Barely any time at all passed before I felt something. A niggling at the back of my head. It grew stronger and stronger until it was almost deafening. It wasn’t until later that I realized that it was Jack. His power growing, calling out to me. 

“When he drained God’s power, when he took Amara into himself and became all powerful, I felt him. It, uh. It’s hard to explain, since I couldn’t technically feel anything at the time, but I remember feeling such pride at him and how he’d grown. But I thought that would be it. My story was over. It had ended. That was the plan.”

Cas pauses here, his head shaking as the soft smile grows on his lips. 

“But no. Not long after that, he came. Jack. I have vague recollections of this time, but what I didn’t know I learned later on from Jack. Apparently, the Empty was pissed, since it was still awake even though it had taken me, and Jack made a deal with it. He’d use his power to put it back to sleep, for good this time, if it gave him, well. Me. The Empty wasn’t happy, but after contemplating the offer, it decided that it would. No strings attached this time. Jack severed my connection to the Empty, let the Empty finally rest, and, well... that was that. I was out again.” 

Cas pauses here again, looking at Dean through his eyelashes almost coyly, like a toddler confessing to a crime. The gaze makes Dean uncomfortable, and so he does what he always does when uncomfortable. He rambles. 

“Wow. That, uh. That’s a neat story there, Cas. And, uh. How long did that take? A month? A year? ‘Cause, uh. I think it’s been quite a bit longer than that, don’t you?”

It’s subtle, but due to the intensity in which he’s staring at the angel with (not to mention the decade of practice he’s had at deciphering that once expressionless face), he can see the tiny flinch Cas gives at the words, at the unspoken accusation. If he were a better man, he wouldn’t feel the flash of satisfaction that the shamefaced expression on Cas’s face gives him. Good thing he’d never pretended to be a better man. 

“Ah, no. It, uh. It wasn’t, well. It didn’t, um. Didn’t take long. After. But... I...” Cas sighs, shaking his head and looking down at the hands he’s folded on the table, his fingers interlaced. “I had things to do. After. See, while Jack had brought me back partially due to our familial bond, there was another thing he needed, something he said he could trust only me to do. Jack, well. He didn’t want to be hands on with Earth or Heaven. Not like Chuck. He wants to be a better guardian, a silent but loving observer. Helping only when utterly necessary. But there are certain aspects of life that do need constant care to work. Heaven is one of them.

“See, one of the angels’ main jobs over the millennia was to watch over Heaven, to keep it running efficiently. When Jack came to me with his plans to rearrange Heaven, he knew that someone would have to watch over the place while he turned his focus to the world. He entrusted this task to me, Dean. He, with Amara’s help, created some new angels to assist me with my duty, but it wasn’t quite enough. I’ve been spending these last couple of centuries doing everything I can to keep this place up and running, welcoming new souls, and sending them to their own corner of this new dominion. I’ve... I’ve been busy, and I guess without you and Sam, time has begun to slip away from me, and it, well, it’s all-“ 

“Cut the crap, Cas,” Dean interjects, his body standing without his brain telling it to. The wide-eyed look the angel gives him makes a shot of satisfaction rush through him, that age old anger and heartache finally rearing its ugly head. Such feelings shouldn’t exist here, he knows that. Figures he’d be the one to beat the odds. With a twisted scowl, Dean turns away from the table, scrambling off the bench and stalking over to the lakeside once more. He feels too restless to be cooped up on a too small bench with an endless ocean of space between him and the angel he once would have gladly died for. 

Standing before the lifeless lake makes some of the tension that had been unknowingly building within him during Cas’s tale unwind. Not much, but enough that he can process the words, process the story. He can feel that Cas hasn’t moved, that the angel is still seated behind him, eyes boring holes into his back. Good, he thinks cruelly. Cas has made him wait what apparently has been centuries for this. Cas can wait a few goddamn minutes more. 

So. Cas is the guardian of Heaven now. It doesn’t surprise him, honestly. What other ending for the once fallen angel was more fitting than this? What better end than to spend eternity watching over the humans that he had loved so deeply that he’d turned his back on everything he ever knew to keep them all safe? He knew it was fitting for Cas and knew that it was important work that Cas would obviously take very seriously. And he was happy for Cas, that he had such an important purpose in life (existence, whatever), truly, he was.

And yet...

And yet. Despite that knowledge, that concession, he can’t help the bitterness that fills him at the thought. The pang of ugliness that takes over his useless heart at the realization that Cas has been there all along, watching over his domain like a king watches his kingdom. Or like a mother watches her child. Cas hadn’t said it, but Dean knows the angel. Better than he knows himself, probably. Cas would have taken Jack’s task with the same solemnity he once did everything with, ever the disciplined solider. But this time, with love and affection for the souls he was watching over, the loving and caring guardian humans had always wanted to exist in God. He knows this is important to Cas, he knows it with everything he has in him.

However, knowing that he’s been there all along, watching and observing and caring... it galls him. He doesn’t believe Cas when he says he’s just been too busy, just hasn’t noticed the passage of time. Dean has, after all. Maybe not the same as he would have while alive, but he knows that time has passed. Knows that years have been coming and going on Earth. After all. He’s felt that aching nothingness inside him growing deeper and deeper as the seconds passed, has felt it try to consume him. 

He guesses that maybe Cas hasn’t felt the same thing, then. If he has, Dean knows for sure that Cas wouldn’t have been able to stay away. He sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to. 

(He ignores the pain that the thought causes him and just clenches his fists tight. So much for pain not existing here.) 

The silence becomes deafening as the minutes pass, hours and days and weeks spanning this single second of time. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he feels Cas stand, his lithe body flitting around the table as he takes cautious but measured steps closer to where Dean is standing. He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. If he does... he can feel his fists clench tighter, the pressure building within him like dynamite. He knows that if he turns around now, he’ll do something he knows he will regret. He’s just not quite sure which _something_ that is. 

It’s as he feels the overwhelming yet familiar energy stop right behind him, a hand hovering over his shoulder with an aching hesitance that he hates that it all becomes too much. And when he hears that voice... that deep baritone that haunts his every waking moment... 

“Dean... Dean, I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry, I should have- but I didn’t know- I didn’t know if you would... if you’d want... when I- I left you looked- dammit. I don’t know, Dean. I don’t-“ 

Dean finally feels the tension inside of him snap and it is with eyes that are blinded by the emotion he feels that he turns around abruptly, brushing away the hand that is still awkwardly hovering over his shoulder. Finally, the dam breaking and the levee overflowing, he lets the emotion he’s been carrying for literal centuries loose. 

It’s as he is reeling back, his hand aching in a way that it hasn’t since he was alive, that he remembers how good pain could feel, at times. He can’t say he truly misses the sensation, but there’s something heart-wrenchingly familiar about the bruising ache that radiates through his busted fist, the finally ruffled face before him causing a dark satisfaction to rush through him. God. It’s been ages since he’d last felt like this. Figures Cas would be the one to bring it out of him. Cas has always been the one who got under his skin the most. 

The wounded and heartbroken look on Cas’s face almost makes him want to stop, to calm down and apologize, but now that the dam is broken, he knows that there’s no way of stopping this flood. The anger and rage and pain that has been artificially hidden for so long by this paradise is finally loose and, for the first time in eons, he truly, truly feels alive. 

“No! Screw that, Cas, and screw you, too! What the hell did you expect from me, man? What the hell did you expect?! You fucking... you told me that for years, you’d been lying to me. Keeping secrets from me. And then, then you told me that the only way out was for you to die, t-to fucking... and then y-you- you told me- told me that you lo- fuck I can’t. I can’t. And then, then you were fucking _gone_ , and I wasn’t, and what the fuck was I supposed to do, huh?! Tell me! What the _FUCK_ was I supposed to do?! _TELL ME_!” 

He knows that if he were human, if he had his mortal body, that his voice would be wrecked from the volume and force of the words he screams. Even still, his chest is heaving, and his eyes are blurry, and he can’t quite breathe, even though he knows he doesn’t need to breathe anymore. All the pain and rage and heartbreak he’s kept inside for millennia comes bursting out and he has no idea how to deal with it. After so long of pretending that everything was perfect, that he was happy and content like his family, that everything is fine and normal and good… he doesn’t know how to handle the rage that once was his most familiar companion.

He can hear Cas take a ragged breath, knows he’s about to speak, say words, say something that will either makes things better or worse, but he can’t take it. He can’t. He wants- he wants- well. He wants. But he doesn’t know what he wants and so he speaks, cuts Cas off, voice shaking as the world grows too blurry to see. He can still see that cursed, watery blue, though. He can always see that. 

“I missed you, man. I fucking... I missed you. So goddamn much it hurt. You were gone, and I had to keep going like I always did, because if I didn’t it was all in vain. I had to pretend it was fine, pretend nothing had happened, but how the fuck could I just move on? Here... things aren’t supposed to hurt, here. It’s not supposed to ache. And for a while... for a while, it didn’t. I was happy. Content. I had Sammy, and mom, and dad, and Bobby, and everyone I’ve ever failed. We were happy. I was happy. But, fuck, Cas... I could never get rid of that ache. The feeling that something was missing. That I... that I wasn’t complete. That there was something _more_ I needed. A-and I couldn’t... I couldn’t... dammit, Cas. I couldn’t move on. You didn’t give me enough time, Cas. You didn’t let me process it all, didn’t let me explain. You didn’t explain. And I-I-I... I can’t. I can’t.” 

Dean swallows, a gasp escaping him as he scrubs at his eyes, shame filling him. He’s not felt shame in ages. He’s not missed it. 

“I prayed to you, Cas. Don’t you dare lie and tell me you didn’t hear. I know you did. I know you did. I prayed and I begged you to come back. To talk to me, to explain. I prayed and prayed and prayed, and you never came. So, why now? Why now, after all this time? What was special about this moment? Did I... did I pass the test? Did I make up for how fricking stupid I was, all those years, not realizing- not- fuck. Did I pass, Cas? Can I be forgiven for letting you die thinking that I didn’t- that I wasn’t- that only you... can I be forgiven, Cas, for letting you die like that? Can I?” 

He doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t know where the words come from or what they mean. Not really. His brain isn’t working, his mind is blank and broken and as dead as he is, and everything he’s saying is coming from somewhere far more dangerous and deadly. Far more fragile and painful and aching. He can feel his heart open on display, bleeding and raw and yearning in ways he’s never felt before, everything he’d held in and hidden in life and death out on display for the only being that has ever been allowed to see so deep under the surface, besides maybe his brother. He’s drowning in the emotions swirling within him and if he weren’t already dead, he’s sure he’d die from this feeling. Maybe he’ll just cease to be, instead. That would be fitting, wouldn’t it? 

Dean jolts about a foot in the air when he feels a hesitant touch brush feather light along his jaw. His eyes are still impossibly blurry, his chest still heaving those unnecessary breaths, and he hadn’t felt his angel ( _his angel_ ) move, but Cas had. He must have. Because there he is, his eyes an ocean of blue, blue that is currently drowning Dean. Blue that has been drowning Dean since the dawn of time. He knows he is being dramatic, but with everything he’s feeling, all at once, endlessly, ceaselessly... he thinks he can be allowed this one, singular moment. After all he’s sacrificed. All he’s lost. Heaven is about getting whatever you want, right? Well, right now, he wants to break apart into teeny, tiny pieces. Is that so bad? 

“Dean... Dean,” he hears Cas call, his baritone desperate in a way he’s never heard, not even all those other desperate times. It makes him want to curl into a ball and disappear forever, shame and self-hatred and pain his only companions. But before he can even think about backing away, he feels his jaw get clasped in what would have been a bruising grip had he been alive, but here is just grounding. Comforting. He gasps again when he feels a warm thumb brush tentatively across his cheek with purpose, the tears he hadn’t felt fall being brushed away with an aching tenderness. The motion just makes more tears fall, but they, too, get brushed away. The world is still a blur, and all he can see is blue, blue, blue. 

“No, Dean. That-that’s not... that’s not... it’s not. Punishment, this was never- never punishment. I thought... Dean, I thought... oh, but it doesn’t matter what I thought, does it? You... y-you were supposed to be happy. Content. The h-heaven you deserve. Your reward for all the pain a-and heartache you’ve been through. I did this for _you_ , Dean. When Jack, when he came to me and asked how to fix H-Heaven, I told him- this. I told him this, because I knew that you- that you would- it was for you, Dean. All of it, it’s all been for you. And I thought... I thought... Dean, I-“ 

“What, Cas?” Dean rasps, cutting off the rambling words, heart clenching at the way Cas’s eyes are radiating sorrow and heartbreak and _regret, regret, regret_ \- “what did you think?” 

The pause that Cas takes before speaking feels endless, infinite, everlasting, and yet all too short, all at once. He’s long since come to accept that everything with Cas will feel like that. Even back when he’d been alive.

“That it was better this way. All I’ve ever done is cause you pain, Dean, from the moment I met you. I wanted you to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted, ever since you taught me how to want anything. And I thought... I thought you’d be happier without me around. I thought... Dean, I thought-“ 

“Well, you thought wrong. And if you truly thought that, then you never really knew me at all.” 

The words hang in the air with a charged energy, and suddenly he can’t take it. Can’t take this, can’t take the pain, can’t take the suffering he still feels even in this supposed paradise. It’s too much. With strength he thought he’d lost long ago, Dean rips himself away from Cas’s touch, mourning it instantly but knowing he can’t take it back. That’s the rub about broken things. You can’t ever fix them again. Not truly. 

“Well. Well. Then maybe... maybe I didn’t. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I never did.” 

The words cut him deeply and he can’t help the ragged breath he takes as he turns and marches further along the lakeshore, body shaking so badly he doesn’t know how he’s even able to stay upright. He stops a few meters away. Far enough to have space, but not too far that he can’t feel that blessed, cursed energy. A bitter laugh escapes his lips, and he doesn’t know what he’s even laughing at. The situation, maybe. After all. It’s so funny. Isn’t it? After centuries he finally gets to see his angel ( _His Angel_ ) again, centuries in which he’d imagined this meeting, the way it would go and what he would say, and this is how it goes. Funny. So very, very funny. 

“So. Is that how it goes? Is this how it ends? We just... you fuck off again, to wherever the hell you go, and I stay here? Strangers once more? How does this work, Cas? Because I’m _dying_ to know.” 

The energy builds behind him again and he knows Cas is moving closer. He wants to move away again, to run and run and run and run, but he doesn’t. He stands his ground, like he always has, stiff as a pole and mind numb, and lets the roiling energy wash over him. He wishes he were a bigger coward. 

“I suppose, Dean, that that is up to you. What do you want, Dean Winchester? Because I... I really want to know. What do you _want_?“ 

What does he want, eh? Isn’t that the million-dollar question. He shakes his head and runs his hands through his hair. He laughs. He cries. He looks up and smiles and speaks. 

“What do I want? Fuck if I know, Cas. Fuck if I know. I’ve had centuries to figure my shit out and I just- I just can’t. This wasn’t- this wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to- fuck. I was straight. I _am_ straight. As a fucking arrow. You were like a brother to me, like a fucking brother, Cas. That’s how it was supposed to be. That’s _all_ it was supposed to be. This isn’t... this isn’t how it was supposed to go. I wasn’t... you weren’t... none of this was supposed to go like this. I was happy, before this. I was happy. But I can’t be now. Not... not now. Not now.” 

The pained gasp he hears behind him makes him want to turn around, to close the distance, to run his fingers along stubbled cheeks, to comfort and soothe and console, like he has always wanted to do, but he can’t. He can’t, like he never has been able to. He stays rooted to his position and just listens as Cas breathes equally unneeded breaths, heaving like a man suffocating. 

“That- that’s why... that’s why I stayed away, Dean,” Cas rasps, his voice more broken and wretched than he’s ever heard it before. It makes him ache. “That’s why... I... I’m so sorry. Y-you were... you were supposed to move on, Dean. To forget about me. To just... you were supposed to move on, Dean. Why didn’t you- Dean. Why didn’t you move on? Why... Dean, why-” 

The broken sound of Cas’s words is cut off by an even more broken sound that comes from him. Dean can’t even begin to explain what the sound is, other than it’s something like a cross between a broken bagpipe and a dying weasel. He thinks, if things were normal, it would have been a laugh. It doesn’t feel like a laugh. 

And as the sound echoes in the still air around them, as he feels the tears want to fall again, his hands coming up to gouge out the eyes he wishes he never had, he finally lets go. The last little bit he was holding on to, the last holdout, the last struggling remains of his self-constraint, and suddenly... suddenly, anything is possible. And as he finally, _finally_ let’s go... he smiles. It’s not a good smile, not at all. But, damn it all, he smiles. 

“Because I love you. Because I am fucking in love with you, alright?! I wasn’t... I wasn’t supposed to be. I was never... I didn’t want to be. But I am. And I have no fucking idea how to move on from that. So that’s why, Cas. That’s why.” 

It’s like the entire world turns grey. The endless, eternal sunlight darkens and the world that was once so happy and peaceful and bright is not so bright anymore. He shudders as a cold wind billows around him, the glassy lake rippling for the first time. He can feel the energy growing behind him, impossibly hot and cold and powerful, and he knows that this is Cas. _Cas_. His Cas. His Castiel. His fallen Angel, his last lifeline. 

His love. 

He wants to cry. 

“W-wh-what?” Cas croaks, the words barely recognizable. Something about it makes his smile widen. He doesn’t know why. “What do- what do you- don’t you- don’t you dare _lie_ to me, Dean Winchester. I-I know you’re angry, I k-know you’re fucking furious, but don’t... I thought you- you weren’t as cruel as this. But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve never known you at all.” 

The smile is dead on his lips, but still it remains. He chuckles. It feels like sandpaper. The sky darkens further. He wonders if it will rain. He misses the rain. 

“I think you’re right, Cas. You never did know me. And I never fucking knew you. Because I absolutely am this fucking cruel.” 

He pauses here and listens to the distant rumble of thunder in the air, a flash of lightning crashing down across the lake. Maybe it will rain after all. He continues speaking, his lips frozen in that mockery of a smile, shrugging carelessly. He contemplates lying, but maybe he’s tired of lying. To himself, to others. To Cas. 

Maybe he’s just tired. 

“But I’m not. Lying. You... you told me. Told me that from the moment you pulled me from Hell, that I had changed you. Well, buddy, you changed me, too. It’s a two-way street here, man. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me something like that, can’t break down a lifetime of walls and barricades, can’t fucking shatter my last remaining restraint, and then be fucking surprised when I- when I find- when I realize- you can’t be fucking surprised. But you left. You died. And then... then you stayed away. So maybe I’m not the only cruel one here, Cas. Like meet fucking like.” 

The thunder rolls again, and the heavens open up and down comes the rain. It’s poetic, in a way. He’d spent his life running from moments like these, terrified of having a “chick-flick moment,” and now here he is. In the ultimate chick-flick moment to end all chick-flick moments. Maybe this isn’t Heaven after all. Maybe it truly is Hell. 

Time passes strangely again, minutes passing into centuries passing into milliseconds. Everything and nothing happens, and he doesn’t know what to do. That cursed and blessed energy behind him is frozen in space and he can feel it radiating behind him, threatening to consume him, but he doesn’t turn around. He can’t turn around. Because turning around means acknowledging that this is real. And he’s far too much of a coward to face this kind of rejection. He can face down monsters and demons and hell hounds and leviathans and angels and the devil and God himself, but he can’t face down his own emotions. He never could. 

Life sure is funny. 

“Y-you... you can’t... you can’t mean that. Dean. You-“ 

“Believe what you fucking want. Because I’m done. I’m fucking... I’m done. So just go if that’s what you want. Leave me here and I’ll find a way to move on, like I always have done. But don’t you dare try and tell me what I feel. Don’t you dare try and take this from me, not now. Not after all the pain this has caused. I could have had any girl, you know. Up here. I could have had my fucking pick. But I didn’t. I didn’t. I couldn’t. So, go, if that’s what you fucking want. But don’t... just... don’t.” 

The only sound that follows his declaration is the sound of rain and the distant thunder, rolling ever closer. He can feel the energy behind him vibrating, can see the glow behind him growing brighter and brighter and he knows. He knows what he’ll see if he turns around. But he can’t. He can’t. He won’t. 

He won’t. 

“Dean. D-Dean. Dean... Dean, look at me. Please, Dean, please. Look at me, D-Dean. _Look at me_ ,” Cas chokes, his voice so strangled that it’s almost unrecognizable. In fact... it actually _is_ unrecognizable. In that it’s not Cas. Well it is, but... but it isn’t. The glow behind him is blinding and he’s not even looking at it and he instinctively knows what it is. The rain is pounding on his cheeks, the wind is bitter and cold, and all he can feel is the radiating pressure that threatens to consume him entirely. He doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn’t want to-

He turns around. 

The sight he sees is one that he can’t describe, and he won’t even fucking try. All he knows is that it’s bright, and beautiful, and blinding, and _Cas_. It... it’s Cas. Not Jimmy, not a vessel, not a fake visage. But... but _Cas_. Castiel. The angel who fell for love. 

The angel who fell for him. 

His angel. 

His Cas. 

His. 

“H-Heya, Cas,” he somehow manages to get out, throat so tight he knows that if he were alive, he’d soon not be anymore. He feels more than hears the laughter, the energy pulsating around him, engulfing him completely. He doesn’t feel the rain, doesn’t hear the thunder, doesn’t notice anything at all, really. Only Cas. 

Only Cas. 

“Hello, Dean. Hello.” 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~ 

“So. This is, uh. Well. Something. I mean... Fuck. What... what the hell happens now?” 

He knows time has passed. Obviously, he does. But maybe time isn’t the best judge anymore, because the space of time that bridges the moment he finally saw Castiel’s true face and this moment, in which the pair is back on the shoreline, Cas wearing Jimmy’s borrowed face once more... it was both an infinity and an instant. And that’s just not possible, he feels. 

The pair are sitting side by side before the lake again, the eternal sunshine back, the water still as marble once more. There is no sound in the air, not even the tweeting of birds, and it feels so fake that Dean doesn’t even know what to do. What to think. Cas is so close beside him that if he wanted, he could reach out and touch him, but he doesn’t. He stays on his side of the lake and he wonders how many miles those inches between them truly are. 

He doesn’t quite know how they had gotten to this moment. He, uh. He thinks he kind of blacked out for a moment there, because one moment he was there and suddenly he is here. Cas is as still as a statue, the angel not even taking in the unneeded breaths he had always partaken in while on Earth. He doesn’t know what any of this means. Doesn’t know why Cas hasn’t just flown off again. Clearly, if he still felt the way he said he did... clearly, if he were still in lo- clearly, he would have said something by now. Clearly. So, he... well. Dean is used to disappointment by now. But he doesn’t know why Cas is still here. He wishes he knew why. 

So maybe that was why he broke the silence, his words faulting and halting and false and wrong. He wants to know what happens now. Where they go from here. Where they can possibly go from here. If there is anywhere for them to go, together, anymore.

Despite the fact that he was the one to start this whole conversation, he starts when he hears that familiar rumble, no longer wretched and unrecognizable, but as warm and familiar as life. He craves it. 

“Well, Dean. I don’t know. I never... I never expected this. I never expected you. I never have. For all the millennia I’ve lived, for all the eons I’ve encountered, you have always managed to surprise me, endlessly. And I have no idea what is going to happen next. So... I guess this all depends on you, Dean. On what you want. So... tell me, Dean. What do you want? What do you, truly, want?” 

And as he looks over at Cas, as his green eyes meet liquid blue, as bright and shining as a summer’s day, he knows what he wants. He’s always known what he wants. The problem isn’t about knowing what he wants, but about admitting it and allowing himself to want it. He’s never allowed himself to just… want it.

But he doesn’t want that, not anymore. Doesn’t want to keep hiding from his feelings, his lo- his love. His _love_. He doesn’t want to keep running from this. Even if he gets rejected, he needs to let himself feel this, or else it will haunt him, quite literally, for all eternity.

And so, for the first time, he doesn’t hold back, doesn’t listen to the voice that tries to tell him he can’t have it, can’t have this. With a slow smile that brightens as the centuries pass, a strange relief entering his heart even as terror wars with it, Dean slowly lifts his hand and bridges the miles between them and clasps Cas’s cheek so tenderly in his palm that he wants to cry, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just smiles, shrugging his careless shrug and hopes that the panic and preliminary regret isn’t visible. 

“Honestly, Cas? I, uh. I kind of want to kiss you right now. Like, really want to kiss you. Think we can manage that?” 

He pushes down the anxiety and doubt and self-hatred that threatens to rise with the words, which is usually impossible. He finds that those feelings are currently being battled away, quite savagely, by the million-watt grin he sees rise on the shining face before him. 

“You know what, Dean? Yes. Yes, I think we can.”

And so, without thought, without wasting a second to let the doubt and fear and whatever other crap he has within him rise up, Dean lurches forward and crosses the light years between them, and finally, _finally_ , presses his lips against the smiling ones he’s been craving since the moment he was dragged out of hell. 

And it’s good. 

~XoxoxoxoxoxoX~

“Hey, Cas?” Dean whispers, he doesn’t even care how long later, curled up against his angel ( _His Angel_ ), content and satiated and glowing. He feels Cas move against him, the warmth that fills him swelling impossibly larger, the legs tangled with his pressing tightly back as a rumbling hum radiates up and down his body so beautifully that he wants to cry again. He doesn’t and lets the hand that is lazily running through silky black strands tighten and pull that beautiful face closer. 

“Hmm. Yes, Dean?” Cas mutters back against his lips, voice wrecked from the screams and prayers he’d been uttering only mere millennia before. Dean smirks, pride filling him at the knowledge that _he did that_. He made Cas sound like that. The once unflappable angel brought so low by the likes of him. The thought brings back to mind his question, and so he hums back, nosing against Cas’s cheek like a fucking cat. 

“Tell me something. Why the fuck weren’t we doing this all along? Because Hot Damn, Cas. Hot damn.” 

He feels the laughter vibrate against his lips, and it’s all he can do to chase the sound back to the source, pushing down at the lithe and powerful body beneath his, until he feels that age old heat fill his stomach and he wants to stake claim to the body beneath him again, and again, and again, over and over for the rest of eternity. That’s the best part of Heaven, he’s come to find. No refractory period. He’s almost completely forgotten his question when Cas pulls back, a teasing smile on his heavenly lips, his eyes shining brighter than any jewel known to man. 

“I don’t know, Dean. Maybe because we’re two of the most emotionally constipated, utterly clueless beings this universe has ever seen?” 

It’s Dean’s turn to laugh, and if a couple of tears slip past his eyes, Cas is kind enough to not call attention to it. Instead, he just continues to look at Dean like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars, for good measure. It makes him lean down to press another kiss to those wondrous lips. It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. 

“You’re goddamn right, Cas. You’re goddamn right. But we got there in the end, yeah? Just a couple centuries late. But we got there.” 

He hears Cas gasp, something caught between a sob and a laugh, and it’s all Dean can do to bury his head in a warm shoulder, feathers wrapping firmly around him, hiding his bare frame from view. Not that anyone is watching. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas gasps, words bright and happy and warm, “we got there. We’re here. You and me. We’re here. And I swear to you, Dean. I swear that I’m never letting you go again. Not ever again. I promise. I promise.” 

Well, there’s nothing for it but to go back in for round two, his heart so full and light that he can finally, finally see how this place is Heaven. It finally feels like it, now. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean whispers, eyes closed, and nose buried in a bare neck that tastes like sunshine and honey. A hand trails up his back, caressing every bump and notch, and stops at the junction of his shoulder blades, more warmth radiating through him than he’s ever felt before. 

“Yes, Dean?” Cas whispers back, voice blissed out and reverent and so raw he curses his past self for never taking this when he was alive. For almost not taking it when he was dead. Now he knows that never having this? That would be the true Hell. 

“I wanted to tell you something.” 

Cas hums, pressing his hand further to his shoulder blade, his other hand drifting down to his right hip. 

“What’s that, Dean?” 

“I fucking love you, Cas. And I want this. This; you and me. I want this. Forever.” 

The startled laugh Cas gives is as incredible as it’s always been, and he would lean up to chase the sound, but that means moving from this spot, and he never wants to do that. Ever. 

“Well, you’re in luck, Dean. Because I fucking love you, too. And nothing would make me happier than having this. You and me. Forever.” 

And Dean knows. He knows it won’t always be this easy. He knows that there are still things they have to discuss, age old aches and pains and hurts that need to be addressed. He knows that they have to talk, no matter how terrifying talking has always been to him. 

But as he finally pulls back from his refuge from the world, as he looks into warm, summer blue eyes, as he feels finally, finally complete... he knows it doesn’t matter. They will face it, together, like they always have done before. Him and Cas. Cas and him. The dynamic duo that beat all the odds and still came out on top. Pun intended. 

Eventually, the pair will get up. Eventually, they will put their clothes back on, hands struggling as they fight the desire to take them back off again for the hundredth time. Eventually they will head back to Baby, get into her rumbling warmth (resist the urge to make love in her backseat, which they will fail at only a little), and drive back to the corner of Heaven he shares with his brother and the ones he loves. 

Eventually, he will get out of Baby and turn to face Sam, a worried look on his baby brother’s face that will melt away into a silent joy when he sees Cas step out of the Impala, joy that explodes into a supernova when he sees them gravitate towards one another, hands clasped so tight Dean won’t even know which is his and which is Cas’s. 

“Finally!” Sam will exclaim, bounding forward to clasp them both on the shoulder, the weight of his worry for Dean melting away like snow in the summer. 

And eventually, they will have to deal with being apart, even though they want nothing more than to be together forever, while Cas does his work for Heaven and for Jack and for the world. And eventually, Dean will wait patiently by a lake, skipping stones and listening to Zeppelin as he waits for the other half of his heart to return, time passing in its strange, beautiful way. 

Eventually, this all will come to pass. Eventually, Dean, and Cas, and Sam, and Bobby, and John, and Mary, and Charlie, and Jo, and Ellen, and Rufus, and Kevin, and Pamela, and Jody, and Claire, and everyone, everyone, _everyone_ will finally have that happily ever after they’ve all been chasing. They will _finally_ have their own Heaven, their perfect world, their perfect reward for the heartache and suffering they had suffered through during life. Eventually, this all will come. 

But for now, Dean lets himself live in this one moment, this perfect moment in time as he watched Cas’s face light up like a diamond as he moves within him, Cas screaming his name like it’s the most reverent thing he can say. Now, he will shake with the emotions that are still raging through him, the happiness and joy and _love, love, love_ so overpowering he can’t believe this is real. This is true. 

Now, he will let himself love the angel that had, despite all the odds, claimed the entirety of the heart that he didn’t even know he still had, and he will accept the love that he never could have accepted when he was still alive. 

Now, he will finally let his tension vanish, let the pain and suffering go, and he will finally, finally, accept that it’s finally over. That they finally won. 

And for the first time, in his entire existence. 

He is truly at peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! I hope this helped y'all as much as it helped me. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you thought! I hope the whole time thing wasn't confusing. The passage of time in the face of eternity always confuses the hell out of me, so I tried to make it make as much sense as possible. 
> 
> And if anyone is confused as to why it took Cas so long to return to Dean, the way I see it, he was, well... afraid. I hope it made sense in context of the story, but I'm not quite sure I nailed that part of this story. Also, he decided to show up at that moment because Dean called it his "punishment," and Cas fully realized then just how upsetting it all was to Dean. Or something.
> 
> (Update 11/26/2020: Just letting y'all know, I went through the story and made some quick edits, so if you read it through again, don't worry about any changes. :-D


	2. Author's Note: Title Change

Hey all! Just wanted to say that I've changed the title of this story, from Smile to Bravado. I was torn on which name to use initially, and after some debate, I decided to change it. I like the song Smile and think it fits, but I think Bravado works better both as a title, and as a paring song. I will delete this "chapter" in a couple days, I just wanted to give an explanation as to why I've changed the title up. 

I also made some minor edits to the story, adding some extra lines of description and dialogue, to make things flow a little better and to fix some pacing and plot errors that bugged me. It's nothing major, but there are some changes, so just a heads up. 

Thanks for all the feedback on this story!! I'm really glad that y'all liked it as much as y'all have. :-D 

Update: Apparently deleting this chapter will also delete the comments on it, and while there is just the one, I'd rather not do that if possible. So I'll just leave it. ^-^


End file.
